The Trouble with Lifts
by SuperSpy
Summary: "I should have known that a magical lift was only going to cause trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously."       L/J
1. Elevator

**The Trouble With Lifts**

**Summary:** "I should have known that a magical lift was only going to cause trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously."

**Disclaimer **- I don't own anything, sadly. Everything Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, and the song lyrics are properly accredited to their creators. Wait, I guess I own the sketchy plot. Huzzah!

**A/N**: Hello! After a ridiculously long hiatus, I have returned to the lovely world of fanfiction. It's kind of wonderful to be back. Anyways, the idea for this story's been rumbling around for a while, but it originally was going to feature Harry and Ginny. However, my heart belongs to Lily and James, and there's something about trapping these two in a mischievous elevator that I couldn't resist. Now, read and hopefully enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Elevator**

"Blame me for the elevator - I know you will, oh yeah, you will.

It's not me who's the operator, but you're going down, down, down."

Elevator by Hot Hot Heat

* * *

I'm not entirely sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn't what it turned out to be.

I suppose I thought that it wouldn't be much different from the first Head's meeting we'd had with Dumbledore. You know, discussions about rules, and what was expected, and the passwords to the Head's dorm and everything. However, I was a little bit surprised that Dumbledore had called us to his office again only a week later.

And by 'us' I mean James Potter and I. When I'd found out on the train that he was Head Boy, I honestly thought that James had been kidding. He'd flounced up, his lips twisted into a crooked grin when he'd brandished the shiny gold badge at me.

"_Kidding, Evans? 'Course not. One should never joke about important things like being Head Boy,"_ he'd told me gravely.

Ever since then, I'd seriously been questioning the Headmaster's sanity. And okay, I'll admit that James has perhaps matured from how he used to be – at the very least, he seems to have pulled his head out of his as-ahem, _behind_ – but he's still _James Potter_, one quarter of the Marauders, Hogwarts' most notorious pranksters. The only person with more detentions than James, is Sirius Black. What kind of example does the set for the young and impressionable first years?

Not that they really to us anyway. Sigh.

Anyways, given Dumbledore's apparent lunacy, I don't know why I'd been surprised that he'd dragged us down to his office during dinner to show us nothing but an ordinary brick wall. Yes, you read that correctly. A _brick wall_.

Thanks professor. I really needed to know what one looked like. It's not like they aren't all over the bloody castle.

I sighed, my gaze momentarily flickering over to James. He seemed to find the whole situation rather amusing. Typical.

"Professor?" I questioned, "Your office wall is really smashing and everything, but why are you showing it to us?" Especially during dinner. I was unbelievably hungry.

He didn't answer me - instead his blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon glasses as he tapped the wall three times with the tip of his wand.

"I'm in terrible need of a lift," Dumbledore said, his words spoken in the same soft manner he always used, but there was a teasing tone hidden beneath the softness.

I peered at him, arching one eyebrow.

"Professor?"

The old man chuckled before tipping his head back to the wall he'd tapped with his wand moments before. I glanced over, and couldn't help the small gasp that escaped my lips. The brick was twisting and peeling back, revealing a set of large mahogany doors, twisted with intricate brass designs. The doors slid open, and behind them, through a criss-cross brass safety gate, was the inside of a lift. The walls were a deep, shiny mahogany, their rich colour lending warmth to the four by six space.

James stepped forward, his fingers reaching through the gate. "A lift, Professor? In Hogwarts?"

"Is it new?" I asked, my gaze still on the lift. "_Hogwarts, A History_ doesn't mention it."

James chuckled, "That book fails to mention a lot of things about Hogwarts, Evans."

I glared, about to retort when Dumbledore spoke.

"No, it's not new, Miss Evans. It's been here since the school's inception. Alas, it's a bit of an embarrassment as it hasn't been the most reliable over the years," Dumbledore explained, pushing his spectacles farther up his nose. "This lift is one designated for the Head Boy and Girl. As a way to compensate for your busy schedules, it will allow you to go anywhere in the school almost instantly. But, it's been out of use for the last few years," he sighed. "It sometimes has a mind of its own, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean, Professor?" I asked, eying the lift warily.

"Oh, nothing too dramatic, Miss Evans, but it has been known to break down from time to time. However, Professor Flitwick assures me it's working perfectly now."

"How does it work?" James asked. I could see the spark of an idea alight in his eyes. As always, he was planning something.

"It's simple, really," Dumbledore said, "To make it appear, tap any wall with your wand three times and say 'I'm in terrible need of a lift'. Once inside, simply state wherever you'd like to go."

"May I give it a go, Professor?" James asked, a crooked smile appearing.

"Of course, Mr Potter."

"You coming, Evans?" he asked, his hazel eyes catching mine. I shook my head. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Suit yourself," he said, pulling open the safety gate and stepping inside. He mumbled something and the mahogany doors slid shut. Moments later, the brick wall shifted and chinked back into place, perfectly undisturbed. The Headmaster's office fell silent, save for the ticking of an odd looking clock to my right. Dumbledore pulled a small, square tin out of his pocket, clicking it open. He picked a small yellow candy out and popped it in his mouth. He then held out the box to me.

"Lemon drop, Miss Evans?"

"No thank you, Professor," I said, still eyeing the wall where the lift had been before. "Is he going to come back?"

"Mr Potter?" Dumbledore asked. "Well, yes. I should hope so. Filius will be terribly upset if the lift is broken already."

As if on cue, the bricks peeled back again, the mahogany doors sliding open to reveal a very pleased James Potter. He stood in the middle of the lift, holding two steaming bowls of food.

"Brilliant, Professor!" James exclaimed as he nudged the gate open with his foot. "A trip to the kitchens has never been so easy!"

"I'm glad you find it to your liking, Mr Potter," Dumbledore smiled.

"Does it go absolutely everywhere, Professor?" I asked. I watched as James seemed to fumble with the two bowls, muttering about burning his fingers.

"Within reason. Mr Potter won't be able to get it to take any trips to the ladies' lavatory, or the girl's dormitory," Dumbledore mentioned with a smile, "and as always, the Professor's quarters are off limits. Other than that, it will take you nearly everywhere within the castle."

I nodded, still watching as James set the bowl down on the Professor's desk, and stared at his hands, glaring at the angry red spots where the bowls had burned him. "Bloody house elves, and their ruddy hot food," he muttered darkly.

"Perhaps you wouldn't have had such trouble, Potter, if you'd settled for only one bowl, instead of trying to gorge yourself with two," I told him offhandedly, a smirk twisting my lips.

James tossed me a glare, "This one," he said, picking up one of the bowls and shoving it into my hands, "is for you."

Oh. Well, then.

I stopped smirking. I stared down at the rice and chicken in the bowl, unable to move for a moment - even as the heat of the bowl burned my hands. I then looked back at James, who was staring at me pointedly.

"Ow," I said suddenly, nearly dropping the bowl. I placed it back on the desk before looking at James. "Well, er, thanks, then," I managed to get out. He shrugged and pulled a fork from his pocket.

"Don't mention it," he said, forcing the metal utensil into my hand. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Well, Mr Potter, Miss Evans, that's all I brought you down here for. You are free to go back to your dorm whenever you wish," he said, moving to sit behind his desk

"Yes," I said, "Of course, Professor. Thank you." I pulled out my wand, charming both bowls to cool, before picking mine up. If James said thank you as I left the Headmaster's office, I never heard it.

Leaving the office, I headed down a long corridor to my left, winding along until I reached a small statue of a funny looking little man, wearing a very large hat with a feather. I flicked him on the nose once, and then pressed down on his left foot. My stomach growled as the little statue spun around once, and a door opened in the wall behind him. I stepped inside, pulling out my wand as the door shut behind me.

"Lumos," I whispered, heading down the dark, narrow passageway. There was a wooden door at the end, light shining through the crack at the bottom. I nudged the door open, and stepped inside the room.

"Well it's about time you got here," Chelsea said, eying me from her spot at the large desk across the room. It was a place we'd stumbled upon in our third year - a small room filled with old desks and bits of rubbish. Over the years we'd been transfiguring different items that we needed, turning it into our secret comfy studying area. She spotted the bowl. "What's that you've got?"

I stood in the doorway, staring at my bowl of food as I spoke to her, ignoring her question. "Something weird just happened."

"Weird as in 'I've just found a man brilliant enough for my best mate, Chelsea Fanrae, to date'," she asked, "or more like, 'I think I've figured out why the third floor Charms corridor always smells faintly of cheese'?"

"Neither," I said, looking up at her. "Weird as in James Potter brought me a bowl of food from the kitchens."

Chelsea sighed and tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear as she set back to work scribbling something at her desk. "That's not weird, Lily. Uncommon, maybe - but not weird."

"You're referring to the fact that he fancied me in fifth year," I said, flopping down on the couch to my left.

"Ding, ding, ding! Give the girl a prize."

I grimaced, digging under the couch cushions to find what was digging into my side as I told her, "Don't be ridiculous, Chelsea. He can't still be on about all that rubbish." I found the offending item – an old book end I'd tried to turn into a quill and instead turning it into something that was part metal, and part feather – and put it on the floor.

"You underestimate your womanly wiles, Miss Evans," Chelsea informed me, pointing her quill at me for emphasis. "That boy is positively infatuated with you. Always has been, always will be."

"Codswallop," I told her, pulling the fork James had given me out of my robe pocket and rubbing it on my skirt to clean it.

"It's not codswallop and you know it," she sighed. "James Potter fancies you. You know this. We've discussed it a million times."

"You don't know for sure," I argued, taking a large forkful of rice and stuffing it in my mouth. Through my mouthful I said, "He hardly even spoke to me sixth year."

"Gee wiz, I wonder why? Perhaps it was because during fifth you called him a bullying toe-rag?"

"I've insulted him before," I muttered, "Still do, actually."

"You also vehemently declared that he – and I quote – 'made you sick'," she said, making air quotes with her fingers. "Perhaps the poor bloke realized he was fighting a losing battle and decided to back off for a bit and regroup."

"Or maybe," I said, jabbing my fork at the air in her general direction, "he decided to surrender."

"Or_ maybe_ you're just being a complete tosser," Chelsea glared, throwing her quill at me. She broke out in a smile a moment later. "He still fancies you, and you know it."

"I'm ignoring you now," I said, taking a bite of chicken.

"Fine. Be a prickly little swot," she sighed. "What'd Dumbledore want?"

"He showed us a lift that the Heads are allowed to use. That's how James got the food."

Chelsea's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean a lift you get to use? Hogwarts has a lift?"

"That's what I said. Apparently it's been broken down for years," I told her, scraping the last bit of rice out of the bowl. I stood, placing the dish on the coffee table. "Look, I'll show you."

I moved to the nearest empty wall and tapped it three times. "I'm in terrible need of a lift."

A moment later, the lift was there.

"Merlin," Chelsea breathed, rising to move closer. She stared at it, her eyes growing brighter by the second. She turned to me, her smile devious. "This is absolutely wicked."

"It's just a lift, Chelsea," I said. "And a dodgy one at that."

"It certainly doesn't look dodgy. It actually looks quite spiffing if I do say so myself," she admired, pushing aside the brass gate and stepping inside. "How's it work?"

"You get in, and then say where you want to go."

"Brilliant! Get in."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me, Lily Evans," Chelsea said, her freckled face caught in a big grin. "Get in!"

"No thank you, I'll pass."

"Get in."

"I have Charms homework I should be doing," I told her, pointing over my shoulder to my rucksack on the floor.

"Charms, shmarms. Get in the lift, Lily."

"And I also have a three foot essay for potions. Very important, that." I said, turning away.

"Slughorn'll forgive you," Chelsea said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside the lift. "We're taking this baby for a spin."

I sighed, resigned to go along with her plan and shutting the safety gate. "Alright then. Where are we going?"

"Lift of Destiny!" Chelsea shouted. "Take us-"

"Are you daft? You don't need to bloody shout," I grimaced, covering my ears. She grinned wickedly.

"Take us to James Potter!" she shouted even louder than before. I could have slugged her.

The lift rocketed upwards, and then shuddered to a halt a moment later. Chelsea was laughing to herself, apparently mad with power. I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off my approaching headache as the doors slid open.

In retrospect, I should have known that a magical lift was only going to cause trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously.

Through the brass safety gate we could see into James' room in the Head's dorm. And it wasn't empty either. Sirius was lounging on the bed, one arm behind his head and the other holding a book open, his feet crossed at the ankles. James stood near his dresser, his white school shirt lay on the floor at his feet as he rummaged in the top drawer. They both turned when the yellow light from the lift spilled into the room.

Horrified, I stood there, my mouth hanging open as Chelsea grinned, nudged me in the side and exclaimed, "This lift is bloody _brilliant_!"

* * *

**A/N**: So, please, please, _please_ with a cherry on top (of anything you want, attractive people included) review! It'll make my day. :)

Cheers,

SuperSpy


	2. Ignorance

**The Trouble With Lifts**

**Summary: **"I should have known that a magical lift was a sign of trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously."

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, sadly. Everything Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, and the song lyrics are properly accredited to their creators. Wait, I guess I own the sketchy plot. Huzzah!

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed! As a treat, this chapter is twice as long as the last one! I apologize for any typos. I am without a beta, and trying my best to catch them all.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Ignorance**

"You treat me just like another stranger. Well, it's nice to meet you ,sir. I guess I'll go.

I best be on my way out. Ignorance is your new best friend."

Ignorance by Paramore

* * *

It only took a fraction of a second for the surprise on James' face to morph into a grin.

"Lily! How wonderful of you to join us!" he said, turning fully to face me.

Merlin…

It wasn't exceptionally bright in his room, and the light from the lift was sort of dull, but there was certainly enough light to throw every well defined line of James' muscles into sharp relief.

Bloody Merlin's sodding flannel boxer shorts!

I could feel the heat flooding my face, and it took me a moment to realise that I was gaping at him like a bloody fish out of water. I snapped my slack jaw shut and resisted the urge to check for drool. I was mortified enough as it was. Chelsea chuckled gleefully from her place next to me. She was clearly pleased by the turn of events, and if I hadn't been so distracted by Shirtless James, I would have been plotting the many ways that I would later inflict pain upon her person.

Sirius was looking us over, examining the lift curiously. He then looked to James, his expression unmistakably miffed.

"So Evans' friends can use your fancy lift, but I can't? Unfair, mate," he chided, shaking his head in disdain. James rolled his eyes, "Come off it, Padfoot. You know why you - specifically _you_ - are not allowed to use it."

"One time, James!" he argued, petulant as he held up a finger for emphasis, "I did that _once_ and you never let me forget it! It's-"

Their bickering seemed to snap me out of my Shirtless James Trance. I stopped listening to Sirius' rant as I turned my face up to the ceiling.

"Take us back," I pleaded, "Take us back to the room where we were! The…the- bloody hell! It doesn't _have_ a name!"

The lift didn't take pity on me, instead choosing to remain perfectly still. I kicked the door frame, letting out a muted growl of frustration. It was then that I noticed the silence. I glanced up to see three mildly concerned expressions. My blush returned double fold.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, flashing a mischievous grin at James before saying, "Of course you'd pick the barmy one to fancy. So typical, Prongs."

The glare James shot Sirius didn't go unnoticed. Although how I managed to pay any attention to his face when I could barely tear my eyes away from his chest was beyond me. _Damn_, was all I could think, _quidditch does a body good…_

It was at that moment, that for my sanity's sake, I had to stop looking. Which is why I promptly slapped a hand over my eyes. I would not look, I would not look, I would _not look_…

"Lily?" Chelsea asked. I could hear the barely concealed laugh in her voice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not looking!" I all but shouted. "And I will continue to not look until Potter puts his bloody shirt back on!"

"Ah, is that what has you so frazzled, Evans? The sight of Prongs' abs just too much for your delicate heart to bear?"

"Shut up, Black," I growled, my temper getting the better of me. I blindly reached for the edge of the door frame. If the lift wouldn't let me leave, I was leaving the lift. I shuffled forward groping in front of me for where, in a few more steps, the door handle should be. Chelsea and Sirius seemed unable to stop laughing.

"Lily," she chuckled, "Lily, stop being ridiculous."

My hand found the door knob, and turned it. I whipped it open and hurried through it, not opening my eyes until I was well away from James' room and securely locked in my own. Leaning back against the door, I deflated like a worn out balloon as I let out a long, slow breath of air. I rubbed a hand over my face, my brain feeling muddled.

There was a knock.

"Lily?" came James' voice through the door. When I didn't respond, he spoke again. "Lily, I know you're there."

I sighed, taking a deep breath before I opened the door.

James looked at me, curiosity and concern swimming in his hazel eyes. He was wearing a green shirt that fit him snugly in a way that I found to be both good _and_ bad.I gulped.

"Yes?" I asked, trying to keep my voice cool and detached. I was mildly impressed with myself when I succeeded.

He frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I said, "Why do you ask?

"You're acting a bit odd," he said, running his hand through his hair, making it look even more dishevelled than it usually did.

"Me? Nah, I'm fine," I said, my voice rising just a bit too high. I coughed and looked away.

"Right." He said the word slowly, his tone disbelieving. I glanced at him sideways.

"Is that everything?" I asked. "I have charms homework."

"Er, yeah, I guess," he said, shooting me a furtive look.

"Smashing," I said, closing the door. "See you tomorrow."

I listened, waiting to hear his retreating footsteps before I let myself relax. After a moment, I heard his door close, and I sighed, my fingers threading though my hair as I rested my forehead on the door.

"Bloody Merlin," I muttered. My heart was still beating too quickly. "What is wrong with me?"

James Potter had always sort of flown under my radar. Unless he was annoying me, that is. I kept him in the mental box I labelled "Tread Carefully" ever since second year when he and his friends jinxed everyone's robes to shout what colour underwear they were wearing. In fifth year he got moved to "Wouldn't Touch With a Forty-and-a-Half-Foot Pole" because of the whole Severus Situation. In sixth, he'd been transferred back to his original box, simply because he seemed to disappear, and judging from his behaviour near the end of last year and the beginning of this year, I could see he was different - and not just physically.

But to suddenly start feeling… _this_ way around him?

That was just too much for me to fully comprehend. I moved away from the door, running my hand over my face again as if it could wipe away my unwanted thoughts. I thought about actually doing my Charms homework before I realized I'd left my rucksack in the study room. Instead, I wandered to the bathroom, picking up my toothbrush and brushing my teeth, then going to the dresser and pulling out my pyjamas. My mind looped in logic circles as I changed my clothing.

What did my change of heart mean? Was it really a change of heart - or did my dinner just not agree with me? What should I do? Do I really _have_ to do anything? Was I going to murder Chelsea? What would be the most effective way? Would Dumbledore be angry? If I was going to murder Chelsea, should I just do away with James as well and put an end to all these ridiculous feelings?

I flopped down on my bed, my arms akimbo and my long hair fanning out around me. I used my wand to turn out the lights, staring up at my ceiling. My thoughts swirled as I listened to the wind outside and the distant creaking of the whomping willow. I was aware of time passing, and I knew I was growing more and more tired, but my eyes stayed glued to the ceiling. The light gradually changed from dark to darker before finally growing lighter. My eyes only moved from the ceiling to check the time on my watch. The hands pointed at the twelve and the four. I blinked, not quite sure if I was imagining things. Could I have really laid there for seven hours? I must have fallen asleep at some point, I decided, since I didn't feel very tired at all. I had a bit of a twinge at my temple though, and I rubbed at it, trying to soothe it away.

I got up, showered, dressed, and brushed out my hair, wasting time by cleaning out the dark red hair that was caught in the bristles of my brush. I glanced at my watch again. Only half an hour had passed. Damn. I stood, wondering if breakfast was even available this early as I headed for the door and out of the Heads dorm.

The halls were silent, not even the ghosts appeared to be up and about. However, as I got closer to the Great Hall, I began to hear voices carrying down the corridor.

"I'm telling' ya, Potter, ya can't pull the feint!"

"Careful, Mulburry, Potter's Captain - you might end up on ball duty for the rest of the month," laughed a feminine voice.

"Shut it, McKinnon," snapped the first voice.

"Look mates, we've got to hurry it up. We're going to miss our practice time," said James as I edged around the door. The Gryffindor quidditch team sat in a group near the center of the table, various food items spread out around them.

A third year boy with a scowl rolled his eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't have scheduled practice so bloody early."

James seemed to take the boy's grumpiness in stride, laughing easily. "Have another piece of toast, Mulberry. Maybe the marmalade will sweeten your disposition."

Mulburry grumbled. I stepped into the Great Hall, my shoes clapping against the stone floor. Every single head at the table swivelled in my direction. James' eyes found mine and a slow smile spread across his face. My heart dropped down into my stomach and I had to look away for fear he'd see the blush I felt creeping up my neck.

"Well if it isn't Lily Evans," he said, "I didn't think you even knew this time existed."

"I couldn't sleep," I said, shrugging. I still refused to look at him directly, instead I spoke to the plate in front of me. Marlene McKinnon shot me a smile as the rest of the team dissolved into idle chatter.

"How are you, Lily?" she asked, as a curious glint entered her eyes. "Chelsea returned to the dorm last night in a tizzy because you'd apparently stormed off on her."

The blush crept further up my neck, beginning to encroach on my face. I tried to ignore it, busying myself with spreading marmalade on toast. "You know how Chelsea gets. She's always in a tizzy over something."

Marlene nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. "The interesting thing was," she said, glancing over at James sitting a few seats away from us, "Was that despite all her angry grumbling, I was able to pick out two coherent words."

"Oh?" I asked, feigning innocence. I hoped that no one noticed how I couldn't seem to stop spreading the marmalade around my piece of toast. The edges of the toast were beginning to crumble beneath my fingers.

"Do you know what they were?"

I blanched. I could feel the blood drain right out of my face as I looked up at her sharply. Oh Merlin. She smiled devilishly.

"Shirtless-"

"Ladies and gents, I'm sorry, but we should really get going. It's already ten-to, and practice was supposed to begin at four thirty," James spoke up, cutting Marlene off. I sighed with relief.

"Don't think you're getting out of this, Lily," Marlene warned, her smile still slightly maniacal. "As a former dorm mate, I demand an explanation."

"Marlene…"

"Pity me, Lily," she said, rising from her spot. "The seventh year dorm has become terribly dull ever since you ran off to be Head Girl."

I rolled my eyes. "Go to practice, Marlene."

"Fine, fine, but I want all the juicy details when I get back!"

"There are no juicy details!"

She laughed. "Yeah, _right_."

I watched her saunter out of the Great Hall after her team mates, still shaking her head at me. I sighed., and finally bit into my mangled piece of toast. There was way too much marmalade on it. With a frown I tossed the slice back onto my plate and stared at it. I'd suddenly lost my appetite. I got up and headed to the study room to pick up my Charms homework. The corridors were still empty, save for Peeves who was making a ruckus in one of the old transfiguration rooms on the fourth floor. I took my time, meandering through the hallways, inspecting statues I'd never noticed before, and looking out windows towards the quidditch pitch.

I'll admit to myself that my thoughts strayed to James. I imagined him, soaring around on his broom, his smile bursting as the wind swept through his hair. His glasses would be slightly askew as they so often were, and his hair would be an absolute mess - just the way he liked it.

"_Don't judge a book by it's cover, Evans,"_ he'd chided me one evening. It was after our first Head's meeting with Dumbledore and I'd just told him that he better take the job seriously.

"_You always think the worst of me. I'm not twelve anymore."_

He then spent the next week being a model student and exemplary Head Boy - helping me organize rounds, and making sure that the older kids weren't hexing the first years in the middle of the corridors. And we had managed to form an uneasy partnership, maybe even the beginnings of a delicate friendship.

And now I had to ruin it with sodding _feelings_.

Because James and I could never…no. No. It wasn't even a possibility.

I shook my head, turning away from the window and heading back to the Great Hall. It was nearing six o'clock now, and a few more early risers were sporadically placed at their house tables. I returned to my seat, poured myself a glass of pumpkin juice and set about working on my Charms essay until Chelsea took her seat next to me an hour later.

"Finally decided to stop hiding in your room, I see," she said, reaching for a scone. I placed my quill down on the table, fixed her with a glare and then punched her in the arm.

"Bloody hell!" she yelped, rubbing the spot where I'd hit her. "What was that for?"

"For being a lousy best mate," I told her, still glaring. "Did you tell the whole house that we stumbled upon James while he was shirtless last night?"

She gave me a reproachful look. "'Course not, you silly twit. What made you think I did?"

"Marlene McKinnon seems to be under the impression that James and I are having some sort of torrid secret affair."

She waved a dismissive hand. "I was a little angry when you went all solitary confinement on me. So I muttered a few things. Marlene just likes a bit of gossip. You know she's harmless."

I punch her again. "That's not the point!"

"Oi! Quit that, would you? You're going to give me a bloody burise!"

"You deserve it. You're a ruddy best mate."

"I'm a brilliant best mate!"

"Oh _really_? Because it seems to me all you do is cause me trouble and strife."

"I bring joy and adventure to your life!"

She fixed me with a big grin as I glared.

"I hate you sometimes."

"But mostly," she said with a smug smile, poking me in the cheek, "you love me."

"Apparently," I muttered, turning back to my Charms essay. She picked at her scone, tearing off bits and popping them in her mouth, satisfied with herself at having won the argument.

After I tucked away my homework and scarfed down a cinnamon bun, we headed to Potions down in the dungeons.

"You know," Chelsea said, giving me a sideways glance. "We haven't discussed your reaction to…" she hesitated, leaning in and whispering, "_shirtless James_."

"That's because there's nothing to discuss," I told her flatly. We entered the dark, low ceilinged classroom and moved towards our desk near the front. Chelsea flopped into her chair, sighing as she spread out her books and supplies.

"Ignoring the signs won't make them go away Lily-kins."

"I'm not ignoring anything."

"Oh, right," she said, her sarcasm scathing. "So you react like that every time you see a half-naked man? Muttering mad things and covering your eyes like a wee innocent?" She laughed suddenly. "Do I need to remind you of that time in fifth year when you snuck into the boys change room?"

I spluttered for a moment, then glared. "That was on a dare! And can we not talk about this right now?"

I gave her a pointed look before my attention was drawn to the back of the classroom. James, Sirius and Remus had all strolled into the classroom. It only took a moment for James's eyes to find mine before he smiled.

"Lily," he said, nodding.

"James," I returned unthinkingly with a tight-lipped smile. He smiled a bit wider at the use of his first name, since I used it so rarely when speaking to him. Lately though, I had been using it more often. Chelsea was staring at me, her head tipped to the side as she contemplated something.

"What?" I asked, my gaze narrowing. Her blue eyes went wide, falsely innocent.

"Oh nothing," she said before grinning at me. "C'mon Lily dearest. Sit down before Slughorn arrives."

I sat against my better judgement. After so many years of friendship, it was easy to know when Chelsea was plotting something - and she was _definitely _plotting something. Trouble was, I didn't know _what_.

Slughorn hurried into class a moment later, shooting me a quick smile as he rushed to the front of the room.

"Sorry, class!" he said, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow. "Got caught up in a bit of a chat with Professor Sappling, you know how it is. You can never pass up good conversation - that's what I always say! Now -"

Slughorn stopped abruptly, suddenly distracted by movement to my right. I turned, expecting to see a student rushing to their seat. Instead, I found Chelsea with her arm raised.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. She ignored me, but I could see her lips twitch upwards.

"Yes, Miss Fanrae?" Slughorn asked. He was a bit startled. Chelsea never raised her hand in Potions.

"Proffessor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could switch seats for this class?"

"What?" I exclaimed, glaring at her. Her gaze remained on Slughorn.

"We're working on the Phunny Philter this class, aren't we? I'm rather allergic to beetle's knees, you see, and I think it would be unfair to make Miss Evans work all alone…" she trailed off, sighing, and batting her eyelashes. Sughorn's brows furrowed.

"Well," he said, rubbing at his forehead. "That's…that's very kind of you, Miss Fanrae, but there's no one to-"

Chelsea cut him off, smiling brightly, "Yes there is, Professor! James Potter is in a group of three and I'm sure he would be more than happy to be partnered with Lily."

I glared at Chelsea, but she didn't seem to notice or care all that much. Slughorn scratched his receding hairline. "Well, if Mr Potter doesn't mind, I…I guess that would be alright."

"I don't mind, Professor."

"Lovely," Chelsea said, already rising form her seat. "Then I'll just be off to the library, yeah? I'll be working on your brilliant assignment concerning dragon's blood and sleeping draughts. Cheerio!" She was smiling brightly, already halfway out the door.

"Er, Miss Fanrae…" but Slughorn seemed at a loss for words, and instead waved a hand and sighed. "I suppose that's fine. Mr Potter, would you please join Miss Evans at the front?"

"Sure thing, Professor," James said, sliding into the seat next to me a moment later. My gaze stayed glued to my potions text book.

As Slughorn prattled on about the proper technique to use when gutting your Higgin's Snarkle, I busied myself by organising my potions kit - lining up all the ingredients in the proper order and making sure every phial was sparkling clean. I could feel James watching me. He cleared his throat when Slughorn stopped speaking.

"So," he said, giving me a tentative smile. "Shall we get started?"

"Yes, of course," I said, moving to light the fire beneath our cauldron. My hand brushed James', and my heart stopped. It was ridiculous, really, but I could have sworn I felt a spark race up my arm. Excuses about static electricity flickered through my mind as I glanced up at him, my hand still touching his, frozen in the air between us. He didn't say a word as he looked down at me, his hazel eyes unreadable behind his glasses. I felt my face flush, and a moment later I found the strength to look away. I coughed, clearing my throat as I muttered apologies about bumping him.

"Lily,' he started, an odd roughness to his voice. I didn't look at him, instead rumbaing around in my bag.

"You'll light the fire then, yes? Brilliant."

I heard him sigh, and I knew he'd be running his hands through his hair again as he did so. He lit the cauldron fire as I set about slicing up beetle knees and newt elbows. James began adding the Salamander saliva and the pureed bezoar to the cauldron , casting me unanswered glances every so often.

"You've been acting very oddly as of late, Lily Evans," he said, exasperated after half an hour of silence. He was stirring our potion with smooth, slow circles as it slowly bubbled and turned a deep, rich yellow.

"Really," I asked, still avoiding looking at him directly. "How so?"

"Well, I thought we were sort of…" he trailed off, sounding unsure. "Not necessarily mates, but at the least we'd become cordial acquaintances."

"And we're not anymore?"

"If we are, you're sure not acting like it."

"What?" I asked, finally looking at him. His hurt tone bothered me more that I would have liked it to.

He looked confused. "You've hardly spoken two words to me ever since…well, the elevator thing."

"It not like we had marathon conversations before that, James," I said, looking away again as I returned to gutting the snarkle we needed before the potion was complete. His hand fell over mine, stopping the knife I held.

"But you're different. Distant. You hardly even look at me anymore. At least before when you were yelling at me, you bloody _looked_ at me."

I frowned at his hand on mine and the odd sensations I felt in my fingers. His hands were calloused from too much quidditch, but the roughness felt alarmingly pleasant. Memories of working on homework together in the Head's common floated through my mind. The laughter, the ease of being around him. I suddenly felt unnerved, so I lashed out. I looked up at him sharply.

"Don't get it into your head that we're anything more than just mates, Potter," I told him sternly.

He removed his hand from mine, rolling his eyes. "Would you give it a rest, Lily? I'm not as thick as you think - I know a dead end when I see one. I gave up on you a long time ago."

I felt the surprise slip over my features. Why did this admission bother me so much? A moment later, my gaze narrowed. "Really?"

"Yes, really," he sighed. "I just want to be mates, Lily."

There was a mixture of reactions floating through my head, from the irate, "It's bloody well about time you got the sodding message!" to the pitiful, whiny, "You don't fancy me anymore?", but I settled for the much more respectable, "Well then, mates we shall be."

He smiled at that, then glanced at the cauldron and frowned. "When were we supposed to add the snarkle?"

"When the potion started to go from yellow to pink."

"Hm."

"What do you mean, 'hm'?" I asked warily. He flashed me smile, showing perfect white teeth. "Well, you see…" he said as he lifted the ladle and tilted it toward me. The potion was a deep red.

"James!" I exclaimed, shoving him lightly. "You've ruined it!" I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. He chuckled.

"_I _ruined it?"

"Yes, _you_, you big oaf!" I continued to laugh. I wasn't quite sure what had come over me. Maybe all the weird feelings I'd been experiencing and the stress they brought had finally made me crack.

James smiled at me. "Can we fix it?"

"Maybe," I sighed, staring at the cauldron. "Have we got any raven feathers?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Possibly," he said, reaching for his potion kit. A moment later he brandished the dark feather at me. "One raven's feather," he smiled.

I ignored the feeling of butterflies in my stomach as I took the feather from him.

"Okay then," I said, slowly returning his smile. "I think we can fix this."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Hopefully you can spare a moment to review - you'll make my day!

SuperSpy


	3. Demon Woman

**The Trouble With Lifts**

**Summary**: "I should have known that a magical lift was a sign of trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously."

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, sadly. Everything Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, and the song lyrics are properly accredited to their creators. Wait, I guess I own the sketchy plot. Huzzah!

**A/N: **I hope you know how awesome all of you are, because you really are extremely awesome - just like giraffes. I thank you from the apex of my heart! (which, you know, is the bottom. I like being technical). On a side note, this chapter features a quote from one of my favourite bands (they refer to themselves as a folk rock duo), Flight of the Conchords. Every single one of their songs makes me smile, and I hope this chapter brings a smile to _your_ face!

* * *

**Chapter Three: Demon Woman**

"You cast your spell…very well! Demon Woman! Ah ha ha ha ha! Demon woman - woman demon!

Demon woman, you cut puppies' toes off, pull an animals' nose off!

How'd you magic my clothes off?"

Demon Woman by Flight of the Conchords.

* * *

For the next two weeks, I avoided the Head's lift like it was the bloody plague. Even when I was running late to Transfiguration and almost certain to incur McGonagall's wrath. Even when I slept through half of Charms because I'd spent most of the night before talking to James in the common room, and then had been unable to fall asleep at a decent hour because I felt like I'd drank too much coffee.

"You've got the Potter Jitters again, don't you, Lily-bo-billy," whispered Chelsea with a sly grin. She nudged me with her elbow as we sat down for breakfast Friday morning. I tried not to smile, but it seemed useless. I'd run into James in the Head's common that morning. He'd looked tired, his hair even messier than usual, and his button down half open. He'd smiled, greeted me with a gruff "Morning' Lily," before disappearing into his room. Something about the way he'd said my name had set off a bunch of bees in my stomach, and ever since I couldn't seem to sit still. Or stop smiling like a loon, apparently.

Somewhere in the past two weeks I'd gone from a respectable, mature Head Girl to a hormone-ridden pre-teen. The thought was both depressing and oddly enjoyable. But I'd never let Chelsea know that. She'd have a field day.

"What was it this time, eh?" Chelsea asked, buttering a crumpet thoughtfully. "Did he snog you senseless on the corridor?"

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head as I reached for a croissant. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, what'd he do then that's got you all hot and bothered?"

"You sound like Marlene," I deflected, sighing, my smile fading slightly.

"Marlene is wise beyond her years."

"Marlene likes gossip and trashy romance novels," I pointed out. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

"You're avoiding the subject."

"Hm, really?" I asked innocently, taking a bite of croissant and strawberry marmalade.

Chelsea sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. "Are you going to deny your attraction to James Potter forever?"

"Would you keep your voice down?" I glanced around nervously, wondering if anyone had overheard. Chelsea rolled her eyes again.

"It's not much of a secret, my dear chum. The only person who doesn't seem to know is you." She looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "And possibly James."

"Well then everyone is mistaken. James and I are just friends," I told her, pulling out my Charms textbook and placing it between us. She let out a snort of a laugh.

"Right, and I'm a bloody purple niffler."

"I would have thought the colour was more indigo, personally."

Chelsea glared, took a vicious bit of her crumpet and crossed her arms. "This is absolute rubbish."

"The crumpet?"

"No!" she suddenly exploded, her face splotchy with anger as she jumped to her feet. She brandished a bit of crumpet at me like it was a weapon. "You and this sodding tip-toeing dance you and Potter are doing! You're both being right gits! He wants to snog you, you want to snog him - just bloody do it already!"

I gave her a look, affronted by her outburst. It took me a moment before I could speak, and when I did, I made sure my voice didn't convey any of the unwanted hurt I felt a I spoke the words.

"James said himself that he just wants to be friends."

"Well he's a bloody liar," Chelsea growled, dropping back down in her seat. She rammed the last of her crumpet in her mouth, chewing angrily.

"Who's a bloody liar?" asked Sirius Black, seating himself on the bench across from us. He looked just as tired as James had when I'd seen him in the common room. He rubbed at his bleary grey eyes before reaching for the entire plate of bacon. He looked up at us when we didn't answer. "Well?"

I was a little startled by his sitting with us, and it showed. "Why are you here?"

"And a bloody good morning to you too, Evans," he drawled with a frown, shoving several strips of bacon in his mouth. "Can't a bloke sit with someone new once in a while?"

"Lily's just upset because James isn't with you - OW!" Chelsea yelped after I punched her in the arm. "Bloody Merlin, Lily! Anger issues, much?"

"Shut up, Chelsea," I shot back, glaring at her before turning back to Sirius. "Sorry, Black. You just…usually sit with your friends."

His handsome face split into a grin. "Aw, Evans, you're my mate too, you know." He reached across the table and ruffled my hair. I glowered.

"Oh gee, how dandy," I muttered, disgruntled as I smoothed down my hair.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Evans," Sirius teased, smirking as he watched me pull out a small mirror to properly fix my hair, "Prongs'll still think you're pretty."

"That's not why…" I spluttered, my face flushing. Chelsea grinned.

"See, I told you, Lily! James still fancies you," she said smugly.

"He does not," I protested. "He said so!"

Chelsea shook her head, turning to Sirius, "Settle something for us, Black. Does Potter still fancy Lily?"

Sirius turned solemn. "Sorry, ladies. I'm not to speak of such things. Marauder's honour."

I snorted. "Since when have the Marauders ever been honourable?"

"Evans! You wound me!" Sirius said, his hand over his heart. "The Marauders are the finest example of chivalry, loyalty and equality in today's world!"

"Oh _really_?" I asked, disbelieving. He nodded in earnest as he dished scrambled eggs onto his plate.

"Oh yes, certainly. Exhibit A," he said through a mouthful of egg, "Second year, before Christmas. Operation Slytherin De-Pantsing. Did we leave any slimy Slytherins untouched by our prank? No, we treated 'em all the same! Equality!"

Chelsea laughed, shaking her head. "And what about loyalty?"

"Ah, exhibit B!" he said, another forkful of eggs making it towards his mouth. "Fourth year, when we pranked the professor's plates to serve only codfish for a week, we left McGonagall's plate unaffected. House loyalty!"

"But isn't that inequality?" I questioned. Sirius waved a hand, shovelling more eggs into his mouth. "Loyalty trumps equality. Besides, can you imagine the detention we would have gotten if we'd pranked her? We were lucky enough as it was that good ol' Dumbledore has a certain penchant for codfish."

I laughed. "Okay," I said, "and what about chivalry?"

Sirius got a gleam in his eye then. "That's easy," he said. "Have we ever pranked _you_, Lily Evans?"

My face was burning, and I ducked my head down, picking at the remnants of croissant on my plate. After a moment, Sirius chuckled, but said nothing. Chelsea prodded me on the shoulder.

"See, Lily? James still fancies you," she said. I could hear the triumphant smile in her voice. "Sirius practically confirmed it!"

"Let the record show," Sirius said, holding up his fork, "that I did no such thing. I simply implied that that may be the case."

"See," I countered. "He's not saying anything!"

"Let the record show, I'm not doing that either." He gave me a wicked grin.

"Shut up, Black," I muttered.

"Oi, come off it, Evans," Sirius said. "Everyone knows you fancy Prongs."

"I do not!" I exclaimed, but my blushing cheeks betrayed me.

Chelsea just laughed. "Your head may deny it, but your heart knows the truth, Lily."

"Yeah, and you spent all last Transfiguration class practically molesting him with your eyes," Sirius pointed out before taking a bite of toast. I glared at him. "I was not."

"Ignorance is bliss, is it not, Mr Black?" Chelsea asked, fixing me with a big, cheeky grin. Sirius nodded, his eyes full of mirth.

"Ay, that it is, Miss Fanrae."

"But," Chelsea said, leaning in towards me. "You are ignorant no more, are you, Lily Evans?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I refused to look at her.

"We've put the doubt there, Lily!" she said. "No matter how hard you try to ignore it, you'll think about it, and realise just how bloody blind you've been lately. And then you'll come to your sodding senses and snog the boy."

"I'm leaving," I told her, standing up and gathering my things. Chelsea sighed. "Lily…"

"No, just drop it, Chelsea," I said, rubbing at my temple. I had a sharp, pounding headache. "Just…just leave it."

For the first time, she looked a bit concerned, and maybe a bit worried she'd over-stepped her bounds. I took pity on her.

"Relax," I said. "I'm not cross with you. Not really, anyways."

She nodded, still looking worried. She let me go though, and I walked out of the Great Hall focusing only on the steady beat of my foot steps and the thrumming of my confused heart. I stared at the stone floor as I walked, my thoughts circling. I looked up when I heard voices approaching.

"Look, Wormtail, I know you didn't mean to wear my trousers instead of yours. All I'm saying is that it's a bit weird."

"I know, I know, James, I'm so sorry! I thought they were mine, but it turns out mine were under the dresser."

"Well, could you take them off then?" there was a pause. "No! No! Not _here_!" James chided as he turned the corner. He had his hand in his hair, clearly exasperated by the smaller boy's actions. Peter Pettigrew looked up at James, his eyes wide, his chubby little hands still on the belt of James' pants which were ten sizes too big for him. "Sorry!" he said, nervous. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Just…just leave it, Wormy," he said, his eyes locked on me as I drew closer. He smiled. "Hey, Lily."

"James," I said, nodding. "Peter."

There were dark circles under James' eyes, and he still looked dishevelled and half awake, although his hair was damp and tousled from being recently washed. I ignored the sudden urge I had to run my fingers through James' hair, assuring myself that it was simply because it was so messy it annoyed me and I wanted to fix it. I also noticed that Peter didn't look exceptionally bright eyed that morning. I frowned, something tugging at the back of my brain.

"Where's Remus?"

"Hospital wing," Peter piped up, pulling his robes snugly around him, trying to covers James' awkwardly long pants. I nodded, "It was a full moon last night, then?"

Peter blanched, and James' face fell flat. "Pardon?" he asked.

"Remus plus a full moon equals a long night ending in a visit to the hospital wing."| I said. After a moment of continued silence I raised an eyebrow. "Come now, James. You didn't honestly think you were the only one who knew, did you?"

They both gaped at me like fish, and I'll admit I was slightly pleased to actually catch James Potter off guard. He was usually exceptionally quick witted. Peter looked from me to James in a panic as I began to walk away. I smirked to myself and set about fully ignoring the flurry of bees in my stomach that were in a tizzy after seeing James twice in one morning.

"Wait up a second, Lily," James shouted, jogging down the corridor and falling into step beside me. "You know about Remus'…furry little problem?" he asked.

"'Course I know," I told him. "I'm not blind, James. I saw the signs and I put two and two together."

He seemed confused. "And you didn't tell anyone?"

"Of course not!" I told him, offended. I stopped abruptly and faced him. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, because…he's…you know," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Most people would be afraid."

"His condition doesn't seem to affect your friendship with him, why should it affect mine? And for your information, not even Chelsea knows. She's under the impression he owns a badly behaved rabbit," I told him pointedly before sighing. "I'm a little disappointed you think so poorly of me."

"Lily, that's not what I meant, not at all," he insisted, stepping in front of me as I tried to move away. He caught my hand in his. The bees in my stomach instant transformed into butterflies as my breath caught in my throat.

"What did you mean then?" I asked, my voicing coming out as a whisper. He brushed a wayward strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. There was a pause as his hazel eyes searched my face. The air felt charged, and I could have sworn there was a crackle of electricity between our fingertips.

"I don't remember," he whispered finally.

"You don't remember?" The question came out as little more than a low squeak. He shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine.

"No," he said. His face was moving ever closer, millimetre by painstaking millimetre . "I've sort of forgotten what we were talking about," he admitted with a sly smile.

The distance between us was shrinking, our faces no more that a few inches apart. An odd warmth was spreading over me, and as my eyes darted down to James' lips I suddenly realised something.

I wanted to kiss him.

And bloody hell did _that_ scare me.

A whole hell of a lot more than any bouts of lycanthropy.

I pulled away sharply, clearing my throat. James' right hand went instantly to his hair, his fingers raking though the strands as he let out a frustrated sigh. He looked at his watch, then fixed me with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I should head to breakfast if I'm going to make it to class on time," he said, adjusting his glasses. "I'll see you later, Lily."

"Right," I whispered, shaken. "Later, then."

He spared me one more glance before he turned and headed down the corridor towards the Great Hall. I watched him as he shoved his hands in his pockets and disappeared around the corner. But that look on his face, the last one he'd given me before turning away, didn't fade from my mind. He'd looked…was it possible he'd looked upset?

But he'd said he'd just wanted to be friends! I glared down the corridor. How dare he change his mind. That was supposed to be _my_ prerogative. I sighed, raking my fingers through my long hair as I turned on my heel and headed toward the Charms classroom on the third floor. Maybe it was just a lapse in judgement. Old habits can be hard to break, and even though he said he'd…given up on me, maybe I was a more difficult habit to break than he'd originally thought? The idea was sort of flattering, and I felt myself smile as I entered the classroom.

Professor Flitwick looked up from his desk, shooting me a little smile as I slid into my seat. I smiled back, but my thoughts were far from the classroom.

Hypothetically, if James still did fancy me, what did that mean for me? According to Chelsea - and Sirius, for that matter - I liked him a bit more than was typical of cordial friendliness. And I'll admit - although to no one but myself - that perhaps they were right. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the evidence. I was friends with Remus Lupin but I didn't get butterflies when his hand accidentally brushed mine during our prefect duties last year. I was friends with Amos Diggory but I didn't get an odd jelly-legged feeling when he smiled at me. No, oh no, all those feelings were left for James Potter to evoke. Damn him.

And according to Chelsea and Sirius, my hypothetical situation wasn't so hypothetical. They were both quite adamant that he still fancied me. It explained a lot of things. The food, for instance, and the odd electrical charge that seemed to fill the air when we were alone. It couldn't all have been one sided, could it?

The Charms classroom was beginning to fill with other seventh year students, and after a few more minutes, Chelsea found her seat next to mine.

"You alright, Lils?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. I nodded, watching as James entered the classroom with his friends. Remus looked more under the weather than all of them, but he looked happy. His friends seemed determined to make sure that he didn't spend his days sulking about his lycanthropy. I realized then that if that was the sort of person James Potter was - the kind that would risk all sorts of things to help out a friend - then that wasn't really a bad sort of fellow to fancy, now was it?

I felt the smile spread across my face, and I couldn't seem to make it disappear. The feeling bubbling up in the pit of my stomach was a bit alarming, but I allowed it to wash over me. I gave myself that one moment to fully appreciate my little epiphany before I would be forced to squash down my feelings and set about ignoring them. Because honestly, whether I fancied James Potter or not didn't mean I could actually _do_ anything about it.

Because he was James Potter, and I was Lily Evans.

We did not mix.

At least that's what I kept telling myself.

But if I was being honest…it's probably because I was a big chicken that I refused to do anything.

I spent the rest of the day trying to focus on my lessons, but really spent my time focussing on James. He kept his distance, even avoiding the Head's dorm until I was already locked away in my room, my nose buried in an old copy of _206_ _Revolutionary Uses of Blast-Ended Skrewt Excrement_. It had been a gag gift from Chelsea when I'd turned fifteen. She had found it utterly hilarious. I actually found it to be both entertaining _and_ informative.

I woke up early Saturday morning, showered, dressed and spent a ridiculous amount of time making sure my hair looked presentable. It was extremely uncooperative that morning. I met Chelsea in the corridor on the way to the Great Hall. She was wrapped up in her Gryffindor scarf, wearing a red and gold jumper beneath her cloak, and carrying a large triangular flag with a lion's head on it.

"Lily!" she cried when she saw me, her face breaking into a wide grin. "Look what Marlene helped me make last night!"

She raised the flag in the air and began waving it back and forth. The drawing of the lion opened it's jaw and let out a deafening roar. I covered my ears as Chelsea squealed with glee.

"Isn't it brilliant?" she gushed, gazing at the flag. I couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, Chelsea. It's marvellous."

"Well it is the first quidditch match of the season!" she exclaimed, looping her arm through mine and leading me down the hall. "We've got to show our Gryffindor pride, haven't we?"

"Yes, of course," I told her, nodding solemnly.

"Speaking of which," she said, studying me with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I was thinking you could use a bit of Gryffindor spirit yourself."

"What do you mean?" I asked, guarded. "I'm wearing my scarf."

"Lily," she chided. "You're Head Girl. You can't simply wear a bleeding _scarf_."

Which is why, after we'd shovelled down some toast and pumpkin juice, I had bright gold streaks in my hair as we made our way down to the quidditch pitch.

"I look ridiculous," I groaned, ducking my head and avoiding the curious glances I was gathering.

"Au contraire, mon amie. You look smashing!" Chelsea said, fixing me with her bright smile. We wound up the narrow staircase to the box where the rest of the Gryffindors were waiting. There were cheers as they saw me.

"That's bloody brilliant, Evans!"

"Love the hair, Lily!"

"Go, go, Gryffindor!" someone else shouted. Chelsea waved her flag, the lion's roar drowning out everyone's cheers, which only doubled as she continued to wave it. I found myself laughing and cheering with them.

"Welcome! Welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season! First up, we have…Slytherin!" shouted a fourth year boy, dressed entirely in green and silver. The other side of the field erupted into cheers as the Gryffindors boo-ed loudly. The announcer shouted to be heard, introducing each team member. None of us paid attention until we heard him introduce Gryffindor, but even then we were too busy shouting our praise to hear any of the names but the last few.

"Black, Mulburry, Mckinnon, and team captain, James Potter!"

No one missed the tone of sarcasm the announcer used when mentioning James. But we didn't care. We shouted, and clapped, and cheered, and Chelsea waved her flag, probably causing all of us permanent hearing damage. But that didn't really bother us either.

The game moved lighting fast, and I spent most of the match watching James fly through the air, weaving between chasers, beaters and bludgers with my heart in my throat.

"And that's another point for Gryffindor," sighed the Slyrtherin boy. "Somebody better beat the sh-snot out of these Gryffindors, soon," he muttered, but the sonorous charm on his throat amplified his every word. It was hard to miss the murderous glare on McGonagall's face as she slapped the boy upside the head.

"Ouch, sorry, Professor," he grumbled. "Potter passes to McKinnon! Black sends a bludger after Regulus, but misses! McKinnon passes to Dumfry - but Avery intercepts! Potter's chasing him, but -OH! A bludger's hit Potter! He's off his broom!"

I didn't need the snot-faced Syltherin to tell me that. I watched as James tumbled through the air, a string of rather foul swear words tumbling from my lips. Then, out of nowhere, Sirius Black swooped down, and reached out a hand to the falling James. James latched on, and the next moment Sirius flung him upwards, and James sailed through the air. Marlene McKinnon had snatched his broom out of the air and then fired it at him. James latched on, threw his leg over it, and then raised his arms over his head in a silent cheers as the Gryffindors erupted into ecstatic chaos. James's triumphant smile was unmistakable.

"And…and Potter's back on his broom," sighed the announcer. "Damn-_OW_! Sorry, Professor!"

It took a second for my heart to start beating properly, but when it did, I screamed, grabbed hold of Chelsea's flag and waved it like it was for bloody Queen and country. Chelsea burst out laughing, and wrapped her arms around me. We both continued to cheer until our voices went hoarse.

The game ended when the small third year on the Gryffindor team caught the snitch an hour later. The final score was 210 for Slytherin, 680 for Gryffindor. There was no stopping the chaos that ensued the minute everyone traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room. Magical banners and streamers were slung from corner to corner. Someone charmed red and gold confetti to fall from the ceiling. Butterbeers were laid out on the table. Firewhisky appeared in unmarked cups. Music by the Brothers Grimm blared from an old gramophone someone brought down from their room. Chants rose up at intervals, expressing passionate loyalty to Gryffindor, and the gleeful squashing of Slytherin.

But nothing rivalled the ruckus that broke out as the Gryffiindor quidditch team entered to room.

"Long live Potter!" someone shouted as the rest of us broke into applause and shouts of victory. James was the last to step through the portrait hole, right behind Sirius, who clapped him on the back. His hair was damp and his skin had that raw, fresh look that happens right after you shower. I felt my stomach drop to my feet.

"Melrin," I muttered, taking in his appearance. I couldn't deal with the sudden urges I had to run up to him, to throw myself into his wiry, muscular arms. Maybe it was all the adrenaline in my system, or all the frivolity in the common room, but I just couldn't quite handle it. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, feeling too warm and entirely too aware of the blush creeping up my neck. I reached for a cup on the nearest table and downed it. It burned, and I spluttered.

"Er, Lily?" Chelsea said, eyeing me curiously. "That was straight firewhisky."

I coughed, blinking away the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "I'm aware of that," I croaked. She chuckled at me.

"Good to see you're finally getting into the spirit of things, Evans," Sirius said, appearing next to us and patting my shoulder. "It's about time you let your hair down and showed your Gryffindor pride."

I shot him a half-hearted glare. "I've got oodles of pride, Black." I pointed to my hair. "See?"

He laughed, deep and booming. "Yes, we could see it from the pitch. Isn't that right, Prongs?" Sirius said, turning to look over his shoulder at James. I swallowed thickly, turning to face him. James was smiling, his hand raking through his hair, making it stick up in tufts.

"It's true," he said with a smile. "And we could hear your flag from a mile away, Chelsea."

Chelsea beamed at that, and raised the flag again, waving it briskly. The lion let out a deafening roar and the common room erupted into cheers of "Victory for Gryffindor!".

"Ah, so that's what that was," said Remus, sidling up to us. He had a bit more colour in his cheeks as he smiled at us between bites of chocolate. Peter was there moments later, stumbling slightly the contents of his paper cup sloshing over the side.

"What'd I miss?"

"Nothing, Wormy." Sirius said before tugging on a strand of my hair. "Just admiring Evans' patriotic 'do."

"It's quite nice, Lily," Peter said, staring up me with eyes that were a little too close together. "Are you planning on keeping it like that?"

"No, Peter," I said. "It was just for the match."

"That's a pity, Lily. It looks rather smashing," James said with a smile, his fingers reaching out to move one of the gold streaks away form my face. I blushed an looked down. "Thanks, James."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Remus cleared his throat and said, "Sirius, Peter, would you…join me over by the fire for a second? There's something I have to discuss with you."

Peter looked confused, then glanced at James, "Shouldn't James…?"

"Come on, Wormy," Sirius said, ushering the small, lump of a boy away. "We can talk to James later."

"Yes, which reminds me," Chelsea said suddenly, "I need to speak with Marlene. Talk to you later, Lily."

And then I was left alone, next to the drink table with James. I tried to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach, and the way my heart seemed to skip a few beats every time his eyes found mine. He smiled, sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"Well, that wasn't obvious, now was it?"

I struggled for words. "No, completely subtle," I murmured. I reached for the bottle of firewhisky, pouring myself another cup. James raised an eyebrow.

"What?" I said. "Can't I have a bit of celebratory fun, too?"

"Of course," James said. "It's just…that's an awful lot of firewhisky for a girl your size, Lily."

"I can hold my liquor just fine, Potter," I told him sharply. It was easier to get angry with him than to deal with the way my legs felt like jelly when he smiled. I downed a rather large mouthful and tried not to splutter as it burned its way down my throat. I couldn't hide the cough though, and he smiled.

"You alright, Lily?"

"Fine," I said. I could feel the fuzzy warmth spread from my stomach to my fingers, and I smiled. "Perfectly splendid," I told him. He smiled then, and instead of my legs turning to jelly, I had the over-powering urge to step closer and press myself against him.

Oh dear.

I downed another mouthful - it was getting easier every time. Much to my chagrin, the urge didn't go away. It was, however, accompanied by a very light-headed feeling, and I wondered if this was the problem with not eating a proper lunch or supper before consuming alcohol. I tottered away from James, intent on finding some sort of snack.

"Lily?" he said, following me. When I tottered sideways his strong hands were there to brace me, saving me from ending up sprawled across the floor.

"Thank you," I said, but I was a bit alarmed when it came out slurred. He smiled then, finding it funny.

"Lily, are you really drunk already?"

"No!" I said, glaring. Then a moment later I deflated. "Yes," I told him sadly. "I'm pathetic, aren't I? Oh Merlin, I'm probably a disgrace to Gryffindor!"

He laughed then, leading me over toward the table where someone had brought food up from the kitchens. He started a plate for me, filling it with breads and cheese and bits of vegetables. He then took my firewhisky cup out of my hands and replaced it with a cup of pumpkin juice before leading me over to an empty space on the couch by the fire.

"There you go," he said, once I'd settled down. He sat across from me, placing himself on the coffee table. He downed what was left of the whisky in my cup.

"Careful," I told him, fighting the urge to giggle. "You might get cooties."

He smiled at me. My heart skipped a beat. "I think I'll take my chances," he said.

And there it was again - that insatiable urge to throw myself at him. Instead of succumbing to it, I shoved a carrot in my mouth, chewing noisily.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked after a moment. I nodded. "Yes. I think the food helped."

He nodded. "Too much excitement and fire whisky on an empty stomach can be a bad combination."

"True," I conceded, nibbling at a chunk of cauliflower. My insides still felt fuzzy and my skin felt hot, but I wasn't sure if that was entirely because of the fire whisky. James looked over his shoulder when someone called his named.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he said, his hand resting on my knee. I nodded, holding my plate in front of me, an odd spinach hors d'oeuvre halfway to my lips and unable to form words. My skin burned where his hand had been. He threw me one last resolve-shattering smile before he got up and crossed the room. If he hadn't moved away, I very well might have thrown myself at him right then. I turned, watching as he approached a tall, thin, leggy blonde who batted her eyelashes so much I was sure she deserved to be sent to Azkaban for it.

"Have you got murder on the brain, my dearest chum?" spoke Chelsea, flopping down on the couch next to me. "You've got a look on you that could kill."

I jutted a carrot in the blonde's direction. "Who's that?"

"Sixth year," Chelsea said, shrugging. "I think her name is…Candace? Yes, Candace Fletcher."

"I don't like her," I muttered darkly, gnashing a carrot between my teeth. Chelsea chuckled, throwing her arm around my shoulders.

"Is someone a bit jealous, Lily?"

"No," I muttered.

She laughed. "Drink your pumpkin juice, Lilykins. James will be back in a flash, you'll see."

I threw her a glare and downed my cup. I didn't think about how there was an unnatural burning sensation that accompanied the juice. Chelsea had left a few moments later when someone started a game of Pin the Tail on the Slytherin, and I spent the next half an hour brooding on the couch, devouring hors d'oeuvres and downing several cups not-quite-pumpkin juice.

When James returned, muttering apologies about overly-chatty birds, I was feeling significantly more up beat.

"James!" I exclaimed, flashing him a bright grin. "You came back!"

"Of course I did," he said, giving me a curious look. "Are feeling okay, Lily?"

"Oh I'm just spiffing, James Potter, thank you for asking!" I told him, a giggle escaping my lips before I downed the rest of my juice. For some reason, saying his full name seemed immensely joyous to me at that moment. James' gaze narrowed, took the cup from my hands, and sniffed it. He sighed, shaking his head.

"I should have known it was spiked," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. He then looked at me, fighting the urge to smile. "You're going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow, Lily Evans."

"Nah," I told him with a smile and a wave of my hand. "I feel great."

He laughed, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. "For now."

I tilted my head to the side, studying him. "You know what would make me feel even better, though?" I asked him.

"What?" he asked, smiling at me. I smiled back.

"If we snogged."

The words just slipped out, easy as pie. They filled me with a giddy sort of excitement as I watched James laugh and run a hand through his hair again.

"Just how drunk are you?" he asked.

"I'm not drunk at all!" I said, which - even in my inebriated state - I knew was a lie. "Well, okay, yes, I am. But I wanted to snog you long before I was drunk."

"Really/"

"Oh yes," I said, nodding enthusiastically. "You make me feel funny inside."

"Hmm," he said, fighting not to smile. "That's good to know."

"So," I said. "Can we snog now?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" I asked, glaring and jumping to my feet.

"Because, you'd be very cross with me tomorrow."

"Rubbish," I told him. "I'd be thrilled."

He chuckled. "I doubt that."

I glowered at him for a moment, then turned as swiftly as I could manage and stumbled away. He followed, a laugh in his voice as he asked, "Where are you going?"

"To find someone who _will_ snog me."

"That shouldn't be hard," he muttered. "But Lily, wait."

"Why?" I asked, my tone sharp. I felt hurt, and upset because James didn't fancy me, and everything seemed wonky and blurry if I tried to focus on something too far away.

"Because if you snog someone else, I'll be terribly jealous," he said, with a half-hearted smile. My face brightened.

"You will?" I asked, smiling again, stepping closer to him. He cleared his throat when I stepped so close I was brushing up against him. He stepped back and nodded. "Yes, terribly."

"But you won't snog me?"

"No, not tonight."

I frowned. "That doesn't seem fair."

He laughed. "No, I suppose it isn't."

I sighed, and rubbed at my head. "I'm tired," I sighed, and began heading to the couch again, nearly tripping over an over-turned chair. James caught my arm, and began leading me over to the far corner.

"Here," he said, still chuckling. "I'll take you to your dorm."

"That's very sweet of you, James Potter," I sighed happily, patting his cheek. He laughed, and tapped the wall with his wand, muttering something about needing a lift. A moment later, the walled turned in on itself and the lift doors slid open. He helped me in as I smiled up at the ceiling of the lift.

"James," I said excitedly as the doors slid shut. "James, remember what happened the last time I was in the lift?"

"Head Dorms," he said to the lift before looking down at me. He was holding me against his side so I didn't fall over. My legs didn't seem to be entirely under my control.

"You visited me in my room," he said, giving me a slightly puzzled look.

"_And_," I said, fixing him with a bursting smile, "I saw you _naked_! Well, half naked," I corrected myself.

He laughed as the lift flew upwards. Then, suddenly, the lift jolted sideway, slamming him against the wall, and therefore me up against him. His chest was firm beneath my fingers, and without thinking I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. There was a moment of hesitation, and then he responded, his hands threading through my hair and my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. I had succeeded in undoing four buttons before he broke away.

"Lily," he said, his voice rough. "Lily, stop!"

I looked up at him reproachfully. "Why?"

"Because…" he said weakly. His face was flushed, his glasses askew. His hair was dishevelled, just the way I liked it, and I could see a bit of the smooth planes of his chest where his shirt hung open.

"Exactly, there's no good reason not too," I whispered, leaning into him again, pressing my body against his as my lips drew nearer. He groaned, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Lily, you're drunk," he whispered. "I can't…I can't do this."

I sighed. "Fine. Fine," I said, stepping away and untangling my limbs from his. He looked dejected and torn. His hand reached out for my waist, but stopped halfway.

"You should go," he said softly, gesturing to the open lift doors. My bedroom was in full view, and I stumbled into it, both peeved and a tiny bit relieved he was letting me go. I was aware that something was amiss with my logic, and was grateful that atleast he seemed to be thinking clearly, even if I couldn't.

I turned back to him, "Night, James."

He sighed. "Night Lily," he said. He then muttered something to the lift and the doors slid shut, erasing him from my view.

I turned to the mirror across from my bed, taking in my unkempt appearance. My hair was tousled from James' fingers, and my lips looked slightly pinker than normal. I smiled blearily at myself before flopping into bed, still fully clothed and smelling rather strongly of firewhisky. I fell promptly asleep, dreaming about lifts and stolen kisses.

* * *

**A/N:** Alright my lovelies, review and let me know what you think!


	4. Bulletproof

**The Trouble With Lifts**

**Summary**: "I should have known that a magical lift was a sign of trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously."

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, sadly. Everything Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, and the song lyrics are properly accredited to their creators. Wait, I guess I own the sketchy plot. Huzzah!

**A/N: **I apologize in advance for this chapter being shorter than the last few. I'm hitting a bit of a creative wall and I fear that it's showing. Forgive me, and hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter anyways!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Bulletproof**

"Been there, done that, messed around. I'm having fun - don't put me down!

I'll never let you sweep me off my feet!

This time, baby, I'll be bullet proof."

Bulletproof by La Roux

* * *

I woke up to the feeling of having a troll dancing on my brain while wearing very heavy clogs. It's not a feeling I'm fond of, just to be clear. I groaned, clutching at my skull to try and stop the pounding as I rolled over. Dried drool was stuck to my face and my pillow. I had a crick in my neck from sleeping on my stomach. My insides felt like they were full of sand. I lurched to my feet, the room spinning, and fell back again.

I stared at my ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe and keep my heart beating at the same time. It all seemed extraordinarily complicated. I groaned, shutting my eyes against the too bright light and resting a clammy hand on my forehead.

"Bloody Merlin," I muttered. "I am never drinking again."

"Aw, don't say that, Lily-bo-billy!"

The half strangled cry of surprise that left my lips made Chelsea laugh. She stood, rising from the chair where she'd been sitting all along and leaned over, peering at me with curious blue eyes.

"Someone have a bit too much good cheer last night?" she asked, smiling wickedly.

I frowned at her, struggling to bring her face into sharper focus. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing much," she admitted with a shrug. "No one remembers anything too clearly since O'Leary spiked the pumpkin juice pretty early on in the night." She paused, watching me as I curled into a ball on the bed.

"What happened last night, Lily?" she asked, her voice much too sickly sweet to be purely inquisitive.

"Nothing," I muttered, my face buried in my duvet. She sank onto the bed next to me, sticking her face close to mine.

"Liar," she smiled. "Dirty, rotten _liar_."

"Can't prove it," I argued, still refusing to look at her. She laughed. "We'll see. Did I forget to mention that Remus wasn't drinking last night? And he's got a wickedly watchful eye, you know. Sees everything. Perhaps I'll just pop over and-"

"No!" I shouted, sitting up abruptly. A moment later I slammed my eyes shut and clutched my head with a groan.

"Hm, interesting," Chelsea murmured, grinning. "So there _is_ something."

"Yes, alright," I sighed. "There's something."

"Excellent," Chelsea said, satisfied. She crossed her legs and faced me fully. "Out with it, then! Spit spot!"

I sighed, and detailed as much as I could remember from the night before. The whole snogging debate, and then the debauchery in the lift were the central parts, although a lot of it was exceedingly fuzzy and hard to remember. She giggled mercilessly through the entire thing, grinning from ear to ear.

"I ought to get you three sheets to the wind more often, Lily, dearest. You're dead fun when inebriated."

"Thanks," I muttered darkly. "That's what every girl loves to hear. 'You're a right swat most of the time,' " I mimicked in a squeaky falsetto, " 'but you're wicked fun when you're pounding back firewhisky!' "

Chelsea rolled her eyes and patted me on the head. "You know I love you, dearest, both sober and drunk."

"I'm not sure if I like you at all."

"Hardy-har-har," she said, nudging me with her shoulder. "Don't be a prat."

I stuck out my tongue at her and she laughed.

"So," she said after a moment. "What are you going to do?"

"About what?" I rubbed at my eyes, trying to clear the last bits of sleep away.

"About James, you daft cow," she sighed, exasperated.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I'm still working on simultaneously thinking and breathing."

She rolled her eyes before she dug out her wand from her pocket and conjured a small tea cup. She handed it to me. "Here, drink this."

I took the cup, staring dubiously at the sludge inside. "It looks horrid."

"It is horrid," she said, "but it'll make you feel human again."

I made a face, sniffing the cup. "Maybe I don't want to feel human again."

"Stop being such a tosser and just drink it," she ordered. I sighed and swallowed the contents in one gulp. It tasted like moldy socks and turpentine. I gagged, coughing and spluttering.

"Pansy," she muttered, taking the cup from me and vanishing it. "Feel better?"

Surprisingly, I did. My head no longer felt two sizes too small for my brain, and it got much easier to think in straight lines.

"What was that?" I asked. She shrugged. "Old family recipe. No one mentions exactly what's in it, probably because we don't want to know."

"Hmm," I said, nodding. Chelsea slid off the bed, reaching for my arm. "C'mon," she said. "Breakfast is almost over. You need to get some hearty English food in you."

It was then that the panic hit. I could feel it bubble p in my throat. I was in no state to be anywhere James might be. I needed time to think, to sort out my thoughts and my feelings…and I couldn't do that if James happened to be sitting too close and smelling too wonderful. Because he did smell wonderful – I remembered that much from last night.

"Oh no," I said, waving my hands at her, my eyes wide. "I can't do that."

One of her eyebrows floated up near her hairline. "And why's that?"

"James will be there."

"That's a probability, yes."

"I can't see him."

Chelsea crossed her arms. "I thought you hadn't decided what you were going to do."

"Just made up my mind. Decided I'm going to avoid him."

"The Lily Evans I know would never run away from anything."

"No," I corrected. "Lily Evans never runs away from a fight. She does, however, run away from boys she's drunkenly snogged in lifts."

Chelsea rolled her eyes. She was doing that a lot lately. "You're such a wet weed, Evans."

"As my best mate I know you'll accept me for who I am, and learn to love me despite my faults."

"Or I may just kick your sorry arse," she muttered. "You can't just hide in your room all day like an ickle specky first year."

"I can, actually. It's a perk of being Head Girl."

"And what about food?"

"I'll go to the kitchens."

"You'll have to leave your room to do that," she said, looking smug. I shook my head.

"I'll use the lift."

Chelsea frowned at me. "You're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm not."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. From the sounds of it, James quite enjoyed himself." She flashed a grin, but I wasn't having it, feeling a twinge in my heart.

"He pushed me away!" I remembered that part very clearly too.

"Because he didn't want to take advantage - you know that!"

I hesitated, looking down at the ground. It took a moment before I found the right words. "I'm not sure…how I feel about everything yet."

Her gaze narrowed. "Meaning what?"

"I acted foolishly, Chels. I wasn't thinking, and I hadn't considered everything with the proper perspective. I mean, I don't even know how I really feel about James-"

"Don't start that rubbish again," she snapped. I sighed.

"Fine. I fancy James, but I don't know if that means that I actually want to…start a relationship," I said, not entirely sure if I was lying. "I mean, I was drunk and messing around in the lift, it wasn't anything serious – it could never be between James and I."

Chelsea looked angry. "And why not?"

"We're too different," I tried to explain. "I hardly know him, and I don't want to jump into anything, you know? And we're Heads, we have our professional relationship to think about!"

That was a lie. I couldn't give a flying fig about my professional relationship, but that was my story and I was sticking to it, no matter how many holes Chelsea might try to punch through it. But the part about it never being serious between us…those were words hit a little too close to the truth in my mind. Every instance I could remember of James speaking to me in prior years involved him either being a bullying prat, or him saying something suggestive.

"_Must you always tear the mickey out of me every chance you get, Evans?"_ he'd said one day in fifth year.

"_I'm just returning the __favour__ you so often pay me,"_ I told him.

"_There are many favours I'd be happy to exchange with you."_ He'd said with a smile and a wiggle of his eyebrows. _"But this isn't one of them."_

Because of moments like that, it was hard to take anything he did now all that seriously.

Chelsea let out a huff of air, glaring at me. "You're absolutely mad."

"That's probably true," I sighed.

"You're just scared."

"That's probably true, too."

She sighed. "Well at least you admit it."

I smiled as Chelsea ran a hand over her hair, sighing heavily at me. "Alright, hide in your room like a bleeding pansy. But when this blows up in your face, don't come crying to me."

"What do you mean?"

She frowned at me. "James isn't going to wait around forever. Eventually the poor bloke is going to snap, and you're going to come out on the losing end if you're not careful."

And with that final warning she left, slamming the door behind her. I sighed and then flopped down on my bed. I had a feeling that it was going to be a very long day.

I bided my time for a the next little while, not feeling particularly up to food and instead burying my nose in my DADA text book. A few minutes into a chapter on shielding, there was a knock at my door. I froze, staring over the edge of my book like there was a boggart on the other side of the door.

"Lily?" came James' voice through the door. When I didn't answer, I saw the knob twist. I reached for my wand, quickly muttering the spell to lock my door. I heard James mutter a few curse words when the door wouldn't budge.

"Lily," he called again, "Chelsea told me you're in there. I need to speak to you."

I stayed where I was, barely able to breathe. After a moment I heard a deep sigh and the sound of his footsteps fading away. Waiting until it was silent again, I got up slowly. Now seemed like as good a time as any to flee my room and head for the kitchens.

I called the lift and ordered it to the kitchens, arriving seconds later. Despite the trouble it had caused recently, I had to admit that the lift had its uses. The house elves greeted me, moving instantly to begin setting a place for me and bringing me several of my favourite dishes.

"Would Miss Evans prefer pasta or a turkey sandwich?" asked a small house elf, here big eyes staring up at me.

"I think I'm in need of some emergency trifle, Holly," I said, sinking onto the stool with a sigh.

"Has Miss Evans had a bad morning?" asked Holly, returning seconds later with a bowl of raspberry trifle.

"You could say that," I muttered. Holly blinked, then said flatly, "Mr Potter was down here earlier."

I hesitated. "Was he?"

She nodded earnestly. "Mr Potter told Holly he was anxious about Miss Evans."

I shoved a spoonful of trifle into my mouth. "And why's that?"

"He said he was concerned Miss Evans would be angry with him."

"Angry?"

Holly nodded again. "Mr Potter said that Miss Evans is often cross with him."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not true."

Holly blinked. "Holly has often heard Miss Evans complain about Mr Potter."

I waved my fork dismissively. "Maybe before. Not so much now. What else did James say?"

"That he hoped Miss Evans wouldn't try to hide from him again like she's been doing."

I smirked at that. Holly twisted her smock in her long knobbly fingers. "Mr Potter also said Holly should tell him if Miss Evans visits the kitchens."

I froze, a spoonful of trifle halfway to my mouth. "He what?"

"He told Holly-"

"I heard what you said!" I yelped, jumping to my feet. "Holly, did you tell him I was here?"

"No, Miss Evans. Holly didn't."

I relaxed, folding into my seat again.

"But Rind just left to inform Mr Potter."

"What!" I jumped up, ramming the spoon into my mouth and reaching to take my bowl of trifle with me. If I ever needed comfort food, now was the moment. I spun around, hoping to escape before James showed up, but he was already there, standing a few feet away, leaning against the opening of the lift. He was watching me, slightly amused but also looking a bit cross, his hands folded across his chest. His tie was loose around his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up. My spoon nearly fell out of my mouth as I stared at him, my eyes round with panic. I was not nearly coherent enough to face him yet. I caught the spoon as it fell and bolted for the door out of the kitchens.

Unfortunately, James had fast reflexes. His spell hit the door seconds before I reached it, locking it. I slammed into the door, and nearly fell over.

"Bloody hell, James!" I yelled. "Are you trying to bleeding kill me?"

He glared at me, storming across the kitchen. "Stop running away from me, Lily, and then I won't have to."

"I'm not running away," I lied. "I have somewhere I need to be. I'm a rather busy person I'll have you know," I told him primly. He rolled his eyes, boxing me in against the door.

"I don't care if you're the busiest bird in all of Britain. I need to speak to you," he said. "And I don't care how furious you may be with me I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Perhaps another time?" I said, edging away from him. His arm shot up, blocking my path.

"Don't you dare, Lily Evans."

I sighed. "What do you want, James?"

"I want to know why you keep avoiding me the minute things get a bit sticky."

That was a rather loaded question for a Sunday morning, and I felt he ought to have known that.

"I'm not avoiding you," I told him sharply, shoving him away and heading toward the lift.

"Bloody hell you aren't," he muttered, following closely behind me. "Are you embarrassed about last night?"

"Yes," I answered honestly, turning to face him. He stopped, peering down at me through his glasses. His gaze softened.

"You don't need to be."

"Oh really?" I snapped, a flash of anger replacing my unease. "You mean to tell me that I shouldn't be embarrassed that I thrust myself on a man who clearly told me he didn't fancy me?"

"Is that what this is all about?" he asked, startled. "You thinking I don't fancy you anymore?"

"Thinking? I don't think, I know! You _told_ me! You wouldn't even kiss me when I clearly wanted you to!"

"You were drunk, Lily!" he shouted back. "What did you expect me to do after six years of being loathed by you? To just shove my tongue down your throat the first chance I got? I respect you more than that."

I paused. "I never loathed you."

"Well you certainly didn't like me."

"I like you now. We're friends."

"I'm aware of that."

There was an uneasy silence between us. The house elves scurried around, a few of them casting us curious glances. I sighed. "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I just…needed time to think."

He scratched the back of his head before he pushed his glasses up his nose and asked, "Can I be honest?"

I nodded, watching him curiously.

"I don't want to be friends with you."

I blinked. "Pardon?"

"I've never wanted to be your friend, Lily."

"But…" I murmured, "But you said…"

"I know what I said. I lied."

I stared at him, my feet stuck to the floor. "You don't even like me enough to want to be my friend?"

He laughed then, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "Merlin, Lily, _no_. I fancy you too much to just be your friend."

Oh. Well then.

My head was swimming with this information. Sure Chelsea had told me so before, but now I had it straight from the horse's mouth! He still fancied me! The knowledge made me feel slightly giddy, but the cynical part of my brain was angry and pulled out a beater's bat and smashed the giddy feeling to smithereens. I hadn't missed Cynical Lily when I'd been drunk. Cynical Lily was a bloody pain. But now that she was there, she was filling my head with all sorts of horrible scenarios - vivid images of the way everything could go horribly, horribly wrong. Like him still being an absolute wanker deep down, or this all being some sort of sick joke, or - and this one scared me the most - him dating me…and then leaving me.

"Lily?" he said uneasily, watching as my face went from happy to clearly upset. I looked up at him, a torrent of feelings coursing through me. My heart was beating too fast, and I wanted to touch him, to run my hands along his jaw and place kisses on his mouth, but another part of me, the terrified part, the one that didn't believe that anything could possibly work out - felt like smacking him across the face and running away.

"I…I can't," I said, turning away from him. When he blocked my entrance to the lift, I turned back the door.

"Alohamora!" I shouted, the door unlocking as I stormed away from the kitchens. He followed me, suddenly furious.

"Lily! Lily, stop!" he shouted after me.

I didn't listen to him, hurrying down the corridors and twisting around corners. He ran up to me and spun me to face him.

"You know exactly how to drive a bloke barking mad, you know that?" he shouted at me. I glared up at him, but he wasn't going to let me speak.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I want to be with you, Lily. I care about you, even though you're mad and you annoy the hell out of me. You're stubborn and you seem to give everyone the benefit of the doubt except me. I fancy you and I know you fancy me too, Lily. We're so close to something great happening - finally, after all these years - and I know you feel it, and that's why you keep running!"

"You don't know anything!" I yelled, shoving past him. People in the hallway were staring, whispering.

"I know a lot of things!" he shouted back. "I know you're scared! I know how it felt when you snogged me in the lift! I know we both want to do it again!"

"Sod off!" I yelled over my shoulder. But he didn't listen.

"No, you bloody listen to me Lily Evans! I'm not giving up on you! I'm not going away! I'm not backing down!"

"Then I hope you enjoy a life of disappointment!" I screamed as I spun to face him. He was breathing heavily, his face flushed and his eyes wild. I glared up him, furious. We stared at each other, the air crackling around us. And then with one final glower I spun on my heel and stomped into the girl's loo, locking the door behind me. He banged on the door, but I ignored him.

I heard several cuss words before he kicked the door one final time and thundered off. I finally let out the breath I'd been holding since back in the kitchens. I cursed, leaning against a nearby sink for support. How had this gotten so wildly out of hand?

I resisted the urge to begin slamming my head against the wall, but only just. I was being so stupid. I knew that the entire time, and yet…I just couldn't seem to stop it. The panic had seized me and refused to let go. But now, in the quiet of the lavatory, the fear began to ebb away, and I was left with a sinking feeling.

"Well, well, well," said a high pitched voice close to my ear. "Looks like someone's created a bit of a….shall we call it a fuster cluck?"

I turned to see the silvery form of Moaning Myrtle floating next to me. She grinned wickedly. "If you don't want Potter, I'll have him."

"I don't…" I whispered, staring at her. "I don't _not_ want him."

"He visited me once in fourth year," she reminisced, ignoring me as she hovered closer to her toilet. "Charming young lad. Told me I had a transparent personality." She giggled.

"Myrtle," I started. Suddenly she flew at me, her voice dropping several octaves as she yelled, "What? Do you think I'm not good enough for him? That you're better than me?"

"No, no, Myrtle, that's not what I meant!" I fumbled, caught off guard by her wild mood swings.

She glared at me, and then she shot to her toilet, splashed into the bowl and began sobbing uncontrollably.

I muttered swear words as I leaned against the sink, jamming my fingers in my ears to block out the sound of her crying. It didn't help much. Sighing, I headed for the door, peeking outside to make sure James hadn't set up camp in the hallway. It was nearly dinner, and I was starving. I decided to risk making an appearance in the Great Hall for supper, praying that the large audience would stop James from trying to yell at me some more.

There was no sign of him in the corridors or in the Great Hall, so I scurried to my seat next to Chelsea. She turned to me the moment I sat down, her gaze critical.

"What did you do?" she asked, her tone flat.

"Could you be a bit more specific? I've done lots of things today," I told her. "I discovered house elves make terrible allies when you're trying to hide from someone, I confirmed that Moaning Myrtle's cries are nearly deafening and-"

"What did you do," she cut me off with a glare, "that caused James to throw such a fit that he burned _that_ hole in the wall when Peter asked him the time?"

I stared at where she was pointing. On the far wall, rather close to the Slytherin table, was a big black pockmark. A deep gouge marred the stone. Smoke still wafting from it occasionally. I felt the colour drain from my face.

"Bloody hell," muttered.

"Bloody hell is right," Chelsea said. "What in the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore did you _do?"_

I groaned and put my forehead on the table. "I told him I didn't want to date him. He got angry. I got angry. There was a spot of yelling."

Chelsea shook her head at me. "You're an absolute gormless git sometimes, Lily."

I began repeatedly banging my head against the table. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_…" I muttered.

"Stop that, you'll give yourself a bruise," she chided, pulling at the back of my robes, stopping my self-inflicted punishment. She then patted by back absentmindedly. "There, there, munchkin. We'll sort this mess out."

"I hate you," I muttered. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you and that stupid sodding lift."

"What's done is done, Lily. It's time to do the grown up thing and make amends and stop acting like a loon."

I sighed. "I guess. But I've botched everything up. I've never seen James this livid. Normally when he's upset with me about something he just…says something rude, or insinuates something, and then everything goes back to normal. But now he's all…" I dropped my voice lower, "'I'm not giving up, Lily! I fancy you, Lily! I liked snogging you, Lily!' I just don't know what to do."

Chelsea snorted. "You're lucky I'm even sitting here talking to you. I told you this would happen if you acted like a pansy. If you'd just behaved like any normal red-blooded witch you would have just snogged him again and accepted an invite to Hogsmeade. But no, you just had to go all psychotic and try and hide."

"I should be offended by that comment…but I just don't have the energy."

"Knackered as you may be, you need to fix this. This can't go on the way it has been."

"I know that."

"Then go, go fix it right now."

"But I'm hungry…" I grumbled. Chelsea glared, then grabbed a roll of the table, shoved it in my mouth and yanked me to my feet.

"Now go, Lily, don't leave this any longer."

"Alright," I muttered once I'd swallowed a bite of roll. "_Fine._ I'm bloody going. Don't get our knickers in a twist."

With one last parting glance at her, I set off to find James. The only problem was, I didn't know where he'd stormed off to. He and the Marauders knew the school inside and out – every passageway, every shortcut. He could be in Hogsmeade getting drunk and hitting of Rosmerta by now.

Then I got an idea.

I moved to the closest wall, pulled out my wand and tapped it three times.

"I'm in terrible need of a lift," I said. This could work. It'd worked last time when Chelsea had simply yelled for it to find James, so why not now?

But as the wall opened up, and the doors of the lift slid open, I realized I didn't have to look much farther.

Because there James stood, leaning back against the wall, his mouth set into a determined line.

I gulped.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review to let me know what you think so far!


	5. We've Got Something

**The Trouble With Lifts**

**Summary**: "I should have known that a magical lift was a sign of trouble. And here I thought that an inanimate object couldn't pose a threat to my sanity - which was a ridiculous assumption. Obviously."

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, sadly. Everything Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, and the song lyrics are properly accredited to their creators. Wait, I guess I own the sketchy plot. Huzzah!

**A/N: **I'm sorry this has taken me such a long time to finish and post. I had half of it written, and then my holidays ended and I had to go to work (blargh) and my parents were all "Wash your truck! It's filthy!" and I was all like "Ugh, Gunter Gunter prefers festering in his own filth!" to which they glared, and I spent the morning of my day off washing and waxing my truck. Ugh. But now I'm here. Posting. Enjoy!

Also, thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! You guys are totally awesome!

* * *

**Chapter Five: We've Got Something.  
**

"My heart's smiling, 'cause it's knows. You've got something, and it shows.

I've got something, you've got something - we've got something.

Oh, we've got nothing here to show.

We have nothing, but we know - I've got something, you've got something - we've got something."

We've Got Something by Adeline

* * *

James Potter was not pleased – that much I knew for certain.

I seriously debated running away for the first few seconds that we stood there, staring each other down.

"If you run," he said, his voice dangerously low, "I will run after you and pin you to the floor if I have to."

I made a noise in the back of my throat, making a face as if to say 'Me? Run? Pft. Never.' James didn't smile, he only waited. With a sigh and a fleeting prayer that I would make it out of this alive and perhaps with a scrap of dignity, I stepped into the lift. I stood next to him, both of us leaning against the back rail, facing outward and gazing into the corridor. We said nothing. I glanced at him briefly to see that he was frowning at the floor, his arms still crossed, his long fingers digging into the wiry muscle of his arms. When he shifted his weight and opened his mouth to speak, I averted my gaze back to the corridor.

"Head's common," he said softly. The lift doors slid shut, and the elevator shifted around us, heading upward. The lights flickered. I frowned, looking up at the lights hidden behind an opalescent screen. They flickered again.

"James?" I asked softly. He shushed me, uncrossing his arms and moving to place a hand on the door. It rattled underneath his fingers. He frowned at it and then stepped back, readjusting his glasses and looking up at the flickering lights in the ceiling. As the lift lurched to the left to take us to the Heads Common room it slowed for a moment before finally shuddering to a stop. We stood still, hoping the doors would open, but they didn't. Instead, the lights flickered one more time before going out altogether. We were thrown into complete darkness.

"Lumos," James said, his wand casting an eerie glow in the silent lift. He looked at me, taking in what I'm sure was the panicked expression on my face. I saw a smirk threatening to make an appearance.

"Well, it looks like you won't be running off anytime soon, poppet."

I rolled my eyes at the nickname and moved to the door, tracing the edges. I squeezed my fingers in between the edges of the door frame and the door and attempted to pry it open. I let out a very un-lady like grunt as I managed to pull it open a few inches. All I could see was solid stone wall.

I turned to look at James. "This isn't good."

"Really? I thought it rather splendid."

"Don't be a prat," I muttered, moving back to my spot beside him. I slid down the wall, sinking to the floor. I hugged my knees to my chest. A moment later James sat beside me.

"Can we at least make use of this time by talking?" he asked, peering at me sideway.

"Depends. When you say 'talking' do you actually mean talking, or do you mean yelling?"

He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. "I can't make any promises."

I snorted, and then gestured for him to get on with it with a wave of my hand.

"I want to know why you keep running from me."

I sighed, staring at my feet. "I don't know."

"Do you fancy me?"

My head snapped to him. "Excuse me?"

"It's a simple question," he said.

"No. It's not."

"It is."

"It's not. We have too much…history for anything between us to ever be simple," I told him.

He turned to face me fully. His hand reached out for mine. "I don't care about back then, I care about now," he whispered. He played with my fingers, traced the lines on my palm. "How do I make you feel, Lily?"

"Confused," I muttered, pulling my hand from his, turning away from him. My heart was thudding in my chest. This was it, there was no time like the present. I had to do it now, finally explain myself, tell him how I felt. No more mad running about. But it was always easier said than done.

"Why?" His question was barbed, sharp, shot straight at my heart. I turned to him, feeling torn inside. Torn between believing everything could be as wonderful as I hoped, and feeling like I had my head placed under a guillotine. I would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop where James Potter was concerned, no matter how much I fancied him.

"I…I don't know if I can trust you," I told him softly. "I'm scared."

He went quiet and I saw the pain flash across his features. "You can trust me," he whispered. "I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"It's not the other people I'm worried about," I said, finally meeting his gaze as I spoke. I had never quite put it that way before, but the words felt right and honest. He opened his mouth to speak – to undoubtedly assure me that he would never hurt me – but I stopped him, placing a hand to his mouth.

"No," I said. "Listen."

He nodded, and I withdrew my hand with a breath. I dredged up the words I'd been searching for.

"I'm not afraid of many things, James. Spiders, certainly. Good ol' muggleborn hater Moldy-shorts, maybe. " His lips quirked at the nickname.

"Despite all that, there's one thing that terrifies me beyond all reason," I continued softly, "and that's you."

"But-" he protested.

"No. Shut it. I'm speaking," I told him sternly, giving him a glare. After he sighed, ran a hand through his hair and nodded, I continued.

"You…you bloody unhinge me, Potter," I said, staring at him earnestly, willing him to understand. "I haven't been able to think straight lately. I…I'm thinking things I'm not supposed to think. I'm feeling things I was never supposed to feel for you. And for you to have that sort of power over me," I whispered, "it bloody terrifies me - because you could hurt me _so_ easily, James."

His hand reached up to touch my cheek, his gaze soft. "Lily, I would never."

"So you say," I whispered, caught up in the roughness of his skin against mine.

"Lily, I…" then he faltered and shook his head, his hand falling away from me. "I don't know how to explain this to you without sounding absolutely mad."

I smiled bitterly. "I've been the authority on mad lately. Try me."

He sighed, moving to push his hand through his hair, but I caught his hand in mine. I craved the contact, and found that my fingers threaded through his of their own volition. He stared at our entwined hands, lost in thought.

"James?" I prodded gently.

"It's always been you," he said, looking up at me. "It will always be you. I'll never leave you, not willingly." He then sighed, looking back at our hands. "There was a moment, years ago when I could have let you go. I could have backed down and just said to hell with it, because you hated me, and I was…well I wasn't the sort of person who deserved you. But Lily," he said, looking up at me, his other hand caressing my face. "I'm in much too deep now."

We were silent, staring, eyes locked together, hearts hammering in our chests, pulses racing. I felt the heat flood my body, the sparks race across my skin with each breath. I felt the pull, magnetic and powerful – something like magic and something entirely different. I felt the fear crawling up my throat, the ice seeping through me as I longed for the freedom I'd felt when I'd had the firewhisky - that foggy conviction that everything would work out just fine.

I leaned away from him, breaking my fingers from his grasp. I scrambled to my feet, turned away from him. I heard him curse, leap up and kick the wall.

"Dammit, Lily!" he shouted. "Why do you have to keep doing that?"

I whirled around. I didn't step back when I realized he was right there, barely even an inch away. I stared up at his face, my voice low and deadly as I spoke, "Because you always push - Push, push, _push_! It's never enough for you!"

"Because you never just jump!" James growled. "It's always two steps forward, one step back with you. You can never just trust in this, Lily," he said, taking my hand and placing it on his chest, right over his heart. "Just have faith for once."

I ripped my hand out of his, suddenly furious with him. "You're such an arrogant prat!"

"You're a prickly little coward!" he shouted back at me.

I glared at him, my fingers itching to slap him right across the face. He let out a half snarl before he grabbed hold of me, shoved me against the wall and snogged me.

It was different from the time before, when I'd been drunk. It was rougher, more pleading and more demanding simultaneously. His hands were in my hair, on my face, my neck, my waist, his fingers burning my skin as they traced patterns. I kissed him back, giving just as much as I was taking. We rolled, moving from me pressed against the wall to him and back again. Our breath came in pants and groans, the occasional growl. This kiss was an argument too, but what it was that we were fighting about at that point, I wasn't entirely sure.

Until coherent thought seemed to come back to me, and I shoved him away. "Bloody hell!" I yelled at him. "No!"

He seemed disoriented at first, but a moment later his face broke into a scowl. "And why not? You seemed to be enjoying it."

"That's…That's not the point!" I was floundering, and he could sense it. I was losing my grasp on why we couldn't just snog in the lift. Why we couldn't be together. My reasons seemed stupid when all I could really comprehend was how much I missed the heat of his body pressed against mine. The sweetness of his lips, and the deliciousness of his kisses.

I shifted away from him, my hands held up in front of me as a barrier. My mind wouldn't settle, flicking from his eyes to his hands to his mouth. I felt warm, uncomfortable, wound tighter than a spring. James moved closer to me, his hands catching mine and sweeping them out to the sides. He stepped right up to me, using our connected hands to tilt my face up to his. He stared at me, his glasses askew again, his gaze searing mine.

_Smouldering_, was the word that came to mind as I felt something coil in my stomach. He leaned in, slower this time. His hand dropped mine in favour of caressing my jaw. He moved ever closer, his lips gently brushing against mine, nothing but a whisper of the kiss before. He kept it slow, patient, teasing. Alluring. Infuriating. I felt like I was caught, feeling like I was about to fly apart but forced to stand still, desperately trying to keep myself whole. But James persisted with his slow, tantalising pace, and I tried to resist. I couldn't bring myself to push him away, but I could try not to engage him.

But my resolve was wavering with each teasing nip and gentle caress, and then it was me who snapped, pressing myself against him, throwing us both into the opposite wall as my fingers twisted the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer. We were heat and passion and frantic kisses, touches and tugs. I could feel him smiling against my lips, and I smiled in return, but it only lasted a moment before we were lost in the fray again, a moan escaping me as a shiver ran up my spine.

And then it slowed, became more lasting, smooth. His fingers seared pictures on my skin, my fingers tugged at his hair. The overpowering need didn't wane, but it seemed to settle within me, relaxing for the moment. He slowed, placed a last, chaste kiss against my lips and drew away. I didn't mean to lean after him, missing the contact already. He smiled, his hazel eyes dancing in the dim light. He leaned in and kissed me once more, slow and deliberate. After, I placed my head on his chest, unwilling to leave his warm, comforting embrace. I willed myself not to think, to only hold onto the feeling that swam inside me, floated in my heart, and not to question it.

"Well, then," James said with a deep chuckle. His laugh vibrated in his chest, and I tried to memorize the lovely, deep, rumbling sound. I'd always loved the sound of his laugh. His large hands stroked my hair away from my face. I couldn't see him, choosing instead to keep my eyes shut and simply feel, but I could tell he was smiling. I could feel myself smile in response, could feel my heart tap out a light, happy beat, trying to match the steady bass rhythm of his. My whole body yearned to fall into sync with him. To never lose this feeling of being so close to another person.

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

He looked down at me, his gaze soft, affectionate.

"Would you go to Hogsmeade with me?"

I hesitated, probably longer than I should have. But this was it. This was the moment to jump. A leap of faith.

"Okay, James," I whispered.

It was then that the lights flickered back on and the lift doors slid open. My head snapped around to stare . There were several people crowded around the opening, including Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Dumbledore, not to mention Sirius, Remus, Peter and last but certainly not least, Chelsea.

I froze, still pressed up against James. His hands stilled on my back. I didn't dare look at him, instead, my gaze landed on Chelsea. She looked like the cat who ate the canary.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Mr Potter, Miss Evans, if you would so kindly… disengage yourselves, you may leave the lift now."

I stepped away from James, cool air rushing to replace the warmth of his touch. I didn't look at him as I swiftly moved out of the lift and into the classroom. I took my place next to Chelsea, who continued to grin at me. Sirius was chuckling to himself, muttering something to Remus about a bet. Peter looked rather amused, giving James a thumbs up. I allowed myself to look at James for only a second, afraid of what I would feel. It felt different - being here, out of the lift, part of the real world once again and away from the cocoon of just the two of us.

He was watching me with guarded hazel eyes, and it hurt - oh how it _hurt_ - to see the wary way he regarded me. It was if he knew that outside, away from his convincing embrace, I was vulnerable, more likely to change my mind, take a step back, chicken out like I had every other time.

I was aware that McGonagall was arguing with Flitwick about something. I was aware that Dumbledore was surveying all of us through his half-moon spectacles. I was aware that James was moving slowly as he stepped out of the lift, his eyes on mine, watching me, testing the waters, gauging my next move. And most painfully, I was aware of the way my heart was hammering in my chest, and the sudden need that curled inside of me - to be close to him again.

He seemed determined not to show anything on his face, determined to appear aloof and unaffected as he made to brush past me, to join his friends. But he faltered when my hand caught his, tugging him next to me. He stared at our hands, like he had earlier in the lift, an odd expression on his face. Disbelieving, hopeful.

"Alright there, James?" I asked softly, a smirk quirking my lips. I could feel something bubbling inside of me. Excitement, happiness. He paused, then looked down at me. He smiled after a moment, more brilliantly than I'd seen in the past few days.

"Absolutely spiffing, love," he said, squeezing my hand. I smiled at him, jumping when a voice spoke in my ear.

"'Atta girl, Lily-kins," whispered Chelsea, winking at me when I turned to look at her. "Accosting him in the lift again. Very classy."

I rolled my eyes and elbowed her in the side. She winced, but didn't stop laughing. I looked back at James, who was chuckling at the two of us. I couldn't help but smile at him, watching the way a dimple appeared in his left cheek when he smiled back. I listened to my heart beat that same, trilling rhythm as it had in the lift. It seemed to keep the unease away. All those worries, all the hesitation, seemed to disappear. Suddenly, everything felt like it might work out okay. It felt right, his hand in mine.

I looked back at the lift, feeling a little sentimental and begrudgingly thankful to the inanimate object. Flitwick was gesturing wildly, arguing with McGonagall about how it had been _fine_ at the beginning of the term.

"I checked it several times, Minerva!" he squeaked. He was a tiny man, but he glared up at McGonagall with all the bravado and confidence of a man who was seven feet tall. McGonagall fixed him with the glare she usually reserved for Sirius when he was being particularly bothersome.

"Obviously not, Filius, otherwise our Head students wouldn't have been trapped inside of it for two hours!" she snapped, a bit of her hair falling away from her severe bun. "We may never have found them!"

"They might not have minded," piped up Sirius, giving James and I a conspiratorial wink. James laughed as I glared half-heartedly, breaking into another smile a moment later. I couldn't seem to help it.

Dumbledore took that moment to move behind James and I, placing a hand on each of our shoulders.

"Ah, Filius, don't fret, old friend," he said, his blue eyes twinkling. "I'm sure you did a wonderful job of fixing it, but it seems to have a mind of it's own. That's the trouble with lifts, I'm afraid. Lemon drop?"

_**FIN**_

_**

* * *

**_

**A/N**: So, this wasn't originally the end…but it ended up feeling sort of…end-ish. I had a bunch of other plot points but I might just save them for another story and finish this one here. I think I do better with shorter stories, anyways. Let me know what you think, and I apologize for the last line. Dumbledore and knowing lines coupled with the mention of lemon drops makes me giggle incessantly. Sigh.

Please review and thanks for reading!


End file.
